Scream (When Your Faith is Fading)
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: "I want you to scream.' The nogitsune hisses. 'Scream so loudly that poor little Stiles will hear you and know that it is too late.' He lets her go, only for a knife to suddenly appear by her throat. His lips move to her ear as the knife cuts her skin and blood wells up. 'Scream, Lydia, because you're going to die here." *season 3B spoilers, Stydia, two-shot*
1. Agony

_**Author's Note: **__I've had this stuck in my head and wanted to get it up before the new episode. Please enjoy!_

* * *

"_Anger and agony_

_Are better than misery."_

—_Three Days Grace, "Pain"_

* * *

"What do you want from me?" Her lip is split, blood dribbles down until it drops onto the warehouse floor. The lights in this place are dim, but she's having a hard time focusing her gaze. Her lungs push against her ribs and she hisses in pain as she tries to breathe shallower. Her body aches and the rope around her wrist bites into her wrists. She's trapped here with a monster that wears the face of the boy that she loves. The nogitsune smirks at her and she remembers yet again, that this isn't Stiles that faces her, with a bloody crowbar in his hands. He has taken her and it's been hours since she's seen daylight or her friends. She's exhausted, but she can't let her defenses drop.

"You're very feisty for a banshee." The monster tells her, turning the crowbar over in his hands. He's being deliberately casual and it puts Lydia on edge.

"Let me go." She doesn't know how many times she's demanded that very thing since she awoke here, but she won't let this thing break her. She'll be strong. She'll fight. Lydia Martin isn't afraid of anything, after all.

"Ah, Lydia," He practically purrs, placing the tip of the crowbar on her cheek and using it to push her hair back. Bruises litter her cheek, a result of his initial beating. "You're very beautiful, you know? I could see why Stiles would be so taken with you." She doesn't flinch away. She won't show weakness, not now.

"You can't win." She informs him, calmly though her heart keeps fluttering and her brain knows that she's on the verge of falling into a panic. She can barely breathe without feeling pain slice into her being. She's trapped here with no way out and no way of knowing if help is coming.

"You know," His gaze meets her and for a moment, she thinks it's the real Stiles. She wants him to find her and save her. She wants her pack here to bail her out and make the darkness leave. She wants Stiles' reassuring voice and strong arms to pull her up from this chair. She wants to be saved. "Banshees are meant to be alone, did you know that?"

She doesn't want to die.

"In certain mythology," He continues, ignoring her silent pleas. "They are women who were murdered or died in child birth and they come back to wail at the loss of someone important." The crowbar dropped down to her neck and he pressed it hard on her, making her breath wheeze. "I wonder, who will wail for you?"

"What do you want?" She manages to gasp out. She won't give this monster the satisfaction of seeing her scared. She could do this; she could hang on. Help had to be coming soon. She had to have faith.

"Do you love Stiles?" He asks her abruptly and she just glares at him. The crowbar moves away and she sucks in oxygen greedily. She won't answer his questions nor give him the satisfaction of her responses. Part of her mind—the ever rational part, she concludes—believes that she will die here. He will kill her or she'll simply bleed out due to internal injuries. She's barely keeping herself together now and her mind will soon take the choice out of her hands and shut down any processes it deems not needed. Her consciousness hangs on a thread and it is only through sheer will power and adrenaline that she is hanging together.

"What do you want?" She practically growls, deep down pleased with herself that she can still muster up a protective façade.

"Because Stiles slept with Malia, you know."

It's like a slap across the face. Stiles—her Stiles, though she never told him—slept with another girl? She just always assumed that he would wait for her. How foolish could she have been? This wasn't a fairy tale! She always knew this day would come, but she had never expected it to hurt so much. Stiles cared for some other girl?

So, her fate as a banshee was sealed then.

She would be alone. Forever, just like the banshees before her. How stupid was she to think that she could've been any different? Stiles would settle down and make some other girl as happy as he made her and Lydia would forever be on the sidelines, watching and waiting.

Alone.

Why was it her fate to be alone?

"Aw, don't cry, Lydia." She hadn't realized a tear moved down her cheek until the liquid reached her lips. The nogitsune kneels down, its face twisted in a parody of sympathy. "It's not your fault you have to be alone." He smirks again and it sends chills down her spine. "We all have our part to play."

"What do you want from me?" She whispers not trusting a louder voice to not break. Cold fingers grab her jaw and force her face to lock onto his gaze.

"I want you to scream." He hisses. "Scream so loudly that poor little Stiles will hear you and know that it is too late." He lets her go, only for a knife to suddenly appear by her throat. His lips move to her ear as the knife cuts her skin and blood wells up. "Scream, Lydia, because you're going to die here." With the strong conviction of his words, she knows its true, but she suppresses the urge building up within her.

_See, that's the problem you don't care about getting hurt. _

That's not true, she always cared. But she put on a façade because she knew that Stiles would always be there to back her up, to let her know when it was okay to cry.

_I think you look beautiful when you cry. _

He was the only one who had said that to her. He was the only one who made her forget about her troubles and just live in the moment. He made her smile, made her laugh and made her feel like she was a normal teenager.

"Scream, Lydia."

But . . . he was no longer hers. Malia now had a piece of him and even if he didn't care for her, Lydia wasn't sure if she would be able to move on from this. Stiles would no longer be just hers. And yes, it was hypocritical of her, she got that, but because of Stiles, she had wanted to be a better person. She always believed he would be there, waiting for the moment she realized she was ready to be with him. But now . . .

Maybe all she was is a banshee.

Maybe she is destined to be alone.

"Stiles." A sob builds up within her; grief overwhelming her senses. The knife cuts in deeper and the smell of cooper reaches her nose. She wants to jerk away, but her body is paralyzed.

This is it.

"Scream!"

There's a flash of pain as the knife plunges downward now into her chest and a shrill voice ringing in her ears. She only realizes later, as her head limply falls to the side, eyes glazed over, that it is her screaming.

"Lydia!"

Funny, she thinks as her eyes shut, she can still hear Stiles' voice even now.

Even at the end.

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_**Author's Note: **__Putting this complete for now, but I do have a plan for a second chapter to wrap things up. If you are interested, let me know. If not, I'll just leave it as it. Please review if you have a second! Thanks._


	2. Smile

_**Author's Note: **__Here is the final chapter as so many people requested it. Let's pretend that no one died though, okay? Slight AU, but not by much. Thanks for the support. Please enjoy!_

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"_If you smile through your fears and sorrow_

_Smile and maybe tomorrow_

_You'll see the sun come shining through for you."_

—_Michael Bublé, "Smile"_

* * *

Someone was holding her.

The door was open; light was streaming through, illuminating the dark warehouse. It burned her eyes and she flinched. She could feel something wet—blood?—roll down her neck and onto her arms. She wanted to turn her head to get a better look at the person who held her securely, but it was like she was paralyzed. Her tongue was too heavy to life in order for her to speak. She felt like she was adrift at sea, at the mercy of the waves. She could hear the faint rumble of her savoir speaking as her ear was pressed against his chest. The nogitsune was gone, thank God, but she wondered if it would come back to her. With a shudder, she tried to push that thought out of her mind.

"Lydia?" Stiles—her Stiles, with the most expressive pair of eyes she had ever seen—glanced down at her, his arms holding her securely within his grasp. His expression shifted into one of relief and Lydia felt a smile grace her lips. "Lydia, fuck, you scared me, we thought—" His voice suddenly disappeared though his mouth kept moving. It was like someone had muted the TV. He must've sensed her distress because he was speaking faster, or was that just her imagination? What was she doing here? Why was she so cold? Alison and Scott were in front of her now, both exchanging concerned glances. Alison pressed a cloth against her neck and she winced in pain.

"Lydia, please, just hold on—" Stiles' voice, frantic above her, but she didn't understand why he was worried. She felt fine, numb actually. She just wished she wasn't so cold.

"Scott, she's going into shock—" Funny, she had read about shock once, but she never imagined it could feel like this. She felt the darkness calling her and she was powerless to fight it. Her vision slowly faded to black, like the end of a movie. Why was she here again?

"Lydia, please—!"

But she was already gone.

* * *

"Hey there." Her eyes blinked a few times as she tried to make out the rumpled figure sitting by her bedside. The smell of antiseptic greeted her nose and she immediately reached for the cord she could feel on her neck, only for a strong hand to stop her. "Don't mess with that. Doctor said you needed more oxygen."

"Stiles." Her voice came out rough, like she had been screaming for hours. Still, the boy beside her shot her a relieved grin and though she could see the dark bags under his eyes, she was glad he had stayed by her side. "Nogitsune?"

"Scott and Kira are on it," He replied quickly, running a hand through his hair. "They're tracking him down." She ran a hand through her hair and flinched as she brushed passed a huge bandage on her neck. Confused, she tilted her head to the side. "Ah, that."

"He . . ." Flashes of what seemed like another life tore through her brain. A knife pressed against her neck. An order to scream. "He cut me."

"Yeah," Stiles breathed, voice caught between fury and grief. "You, uh, went into shock. You lost a lot of blood." The silent too much went unspoken. She had almost died, she could tell that from the way Stiles was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. "Lydia, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" She echoed, perplexed.

"If it weren't for me, the nogitsune never would've gone after you—" Ah, so he wanted to go into a shame spiral. Well, Lydia Martin did not almost die just to wake up and hear this. She knew better and honestly, something like this was inevitable. She was a banshee, best friends with a werewolf hunter and unofficially a member of a wolf pack. Truth was, something like this was bound to happen to her. Sure, she had almost died—yes, she was also aware she was taking that pretty well—but she wasn't going to let Stiles feel bad for it. Truth was, she was glad he was back.

"Stiles," Her soft tone made him meet her gaze. She reached over and held his calloused hand within her own. "This is not your fault." He opened his mouth to protest, but her gaze hardened and he shut his mouth. "I'm okay."

"You're alive." He breathed.

"Yes, I am." They shared a grin. To his surprise, she didn't let go of his hand and his grip on it tightened ever so slightly. "And you know what?"

"What?"

"When this whole nogitsune thing is over," She paused, deliberately stringing him alone. "You're taking me out."

"I-I am?" He stuttered, completely taken aback. She smirked, loving how easily flustered he could become. It was one her favorite things about him. She reclined back on the hospital bed, still holding his hand.

"Yes, you are."

"On a date?" He clarified.

"Yes."

"You and me?"

"Who else, Stiles?"

"On a date, you and me?"

"Stiles," She beamed at him. "Yes, a date."

"Well, okay." A grin lit up his face and for the first time since this ordeal began, Lydia knew that they would be okay. This too would pass. Life would return back to normal and then they could be teenagers once more.

"Stiles?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thanks for rescuing me." He blushed, somewhat embarrassed.

"Anytime, Lydia."

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_**Author's Note: **__I wanted this chapter to be a bit fluffy. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review if you have a second. Thanks! _


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